


Get A Little Bit Closer

by orphan_account



Series: Rule 63 Combeferre/Courfeyrac Filth [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Frottage, Nipple Play, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t get to do that,” Combeferre said, her voice slightly hoarse.</p><p>“And why’s that?” Courfeyrac said, leaning back on the couch and nonchalantly swinging their hands back and forth together.</p><p>“Because,” Combeferre said, leaning down towards her, “you’ve been teasing me all day.” Her face was closer to Courfeyrac’s now, and getting closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get A Little Bit Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefaceofno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefaceofno/gifts).



Antoinette Courfeyrac slumped back on the couch, letting out a sigh. “That was way more work than I thought it’d be.”

Her fiancée, Jeanne Combeferre, closed the door behind the last of their friends, then turned back to face Courfeyrac. “At least we’re all moved in now,” she said, giving Courfeyrac the eye-crinkling smile that consistently made her weak in the knees, even after six years of being together.

Courfeyrac held out her hands for Combeferre, who came towards her, eyes fixed on Courfeyrac’s own the whole way. Taking Combeferre’s hands into her own, Courfeyrac kissed the back of the right one gently, still looking up into Combeferre’s liquid brown eyes. “We live together now,” she said, then turned Combeferre’s hand over to kiss from her wrist up her forearm. With the last kiss, at the crook of Combeferre’s elbow, Courfeyrac flicked the tip of her tongue over Combeferre’s skin, then grazed her teeth over the newly moistened skin.

Glancing back up at Combeferre, Courfeyrac saw the Indian woman release her lip from in between her teeth, smiled as she saw Combeferre’s chest rising and falling faster than usual. She smirked up at Combeferre, pulling away from her arm, their fingers still laced together.

“You don’t get to do that,” Combeferre said, her voice slightly hoarse.

“And why’s that?” Courfeyrac said, leaning back on the couch and nonchalantly swinging their hands back and forth together.

“Because,” Combeferre said, leaning down towards her, “you’ve been teasing me all day.” Her face was closer to Courfeyrac’s now, and getting closer. Combeferre moved her hands up, still clasped with Courfeyrac’s, to brace herself on the back of the couch.

Courfeyrac swallowed. “Have I really?” Combeferre wasn’t wrong. Courfeyrac had been brushing against Combeferre all day, skimming her fingers along her collarbones or hips. Or letting her shirt ride up so that Combeferre could see the dark marks from her fingers, from where Combeferre had gripped her as Courfeyrac rode her strap-on two nights ago.

Combeferre nodded, lowering herself so that she was kneeling with one leg between Courfeyrac’s. She untangled their fingers, but Courfeyrac left her hands behind her where Combeferre had left them, feeling the familiar uncoiling of heat and arousal between her legs.

Combeferre slowly pulled out Courfeyrac’s ponytail, letting her black curls tumble down over her shoulders to tickle against her bare skin, obstructed only by the strap of her sports bra. “Fucking beautiful,” Combeferre said, running her fingers deep through Courfeyrac’s hair, as if she was massaging shampoo through it. Courfeyrac let her eyes flutter shut.

Then Combeferre tugged on Courfeyrac’s hair, and she moaned, a loud, guttural sound that surprised her. Her eyes flew open and she saw Combeferre flash her white teeth in a triumphant grin.

“You suck so much,” Courfeyrac said, her voice high and breathy.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow and pulled her hair again, in a downward motion. Courfeyrac let out an embarrassingly desperate whimper at the pressure, her head falling back to expose her neck.

“Fuck, baby.” Courfeyrac, said, then whined as Combeferre pulled her hands out of Courfeyrac’s mass of hair. “This isn’t fair, your hair is too short for me to pull.” Courfeyrac usually loved Combeferre’s pixie undercut, but right now she hated her inability to get Combeferre back.

Combeferre shrugged, reaching down to the bottom of Courfeyrac’s bra. “May I?” she said.

Courfeyrac scoffed. “That’s a stupid question.”

“That isn’t consent.”

“Yes, I consent. Please, pull it off.” She lifted her arms up to make it easier for Combeferre to pull the black bra off and throw it to the other end of the couch.

Combeferre grinned as Courfeyrac’s breasts were exposed, immediately cupping her hands around them to lift one to her lips, brushing her lips across the dark nipple until it became pert. Courfeyrac moaned, her head falling back and her hands coming up to grip the back of Combeferre’s flannel shirt in her fists. Combeferre immediately lifted her head again, frowning at Courfeyrac. “Don’t move your hands.”

“Try and stop me,” Courfeyrac said.

Combeferre reached back, skimming her fingers down Courfeyrac’s arms, and gripped Courfeyrac’s wrists, moving them to Courfeyrac’s sides and holding them there. She ducked her head and began to lap at Courfeyrac’s nipple, running the flat of her tongue over it before circling it with the tip of her tongue. Courfeyrac bit her lip, tipping her head back again and focusing on breathing, trying to not give Combeferre the satisfaction of hearing the moans that wanted to spill from her lips as she could feel her pussy throb, soaking through her underwear.

She had no choice about the sobbing noise that came from her, unbidden, when Combeferre fastened her teeth around Courfeyrac’s nipple and tugged. “Oh, fuck,” she said. She could feel Combeferre smile at her breast, and then she secured her lips around Courfeyrac’s nipple and sucked, her teeth still grazing against the sensitive flesh. “Fuck,” Courfeyrac said, beginning to grind against Combeferre’s thigh between her legs. The pressure sent pleasure shocking through her, numbing her brain.

Combeferre didn’t move her thigh away, but she did move her mouth to Courfeyrac’s other breast, licking at it. She lifted her hand away from Courfeyrac’s wrist and moved it to the now abandoned breast, rubbing across the nipple with the pad of her thumb as she flicked her tongue across the other one.

“I can’t… Oh my god,” Courfeyrac said, her free hand flying up to fist in her own hair, pulling at the curls herself. “Fuck me, oh my god.” She let out a whine as Combeferre began to bite and suck at her nipple again, using her fingers to tug at Courfeyrac’s other breast. Courfeyrac felt hot and cold simultaneously, yanking at her own hair, feeling her orgasm begin to build.

Combeferre began to undulate her hips, grinding her thigh against Courfeyrac’s clit under her jeans and underwear as her mouth and fingers stimulated Courfeyrac’s nipples with fervor. The mixture of hot pleasure and sharp pain from so many points on Courfeyrac’s body – her breasts, her clit, her hair, her wrist – built until Courfeyrac knew she was five seconds away from hurtling over the edge of the cliff, she could see it, she could feel it-

“I’m coming,” she said, “’Ferre, I’m coming, oh fu-” Combeferre bit down hard on the flesh of her breast, digging her nails into the other one, and Courfeyrac arrived at her climax, moaning as she rutted against Combeferre’s thighs without shame as her pussy clenched around nothing. Liquid seeped through her panties and jeans, making between her thighs moist. Courfeyrac panted as she came down, grinning up at her fiancée, her eyes hazed.

Combeferre pulled away, her eyes dark and her expression sheepish. “Sorry,” she said, standing up beside the couch again.

Courfeyrac took a moment to make sure that her legs would support her, then stood, reaching up to pull Combeferre down for a bruising, biting kiss. “I’ll make you sorry,” she said when she pulled away, taking Combeferre’s hand and pulling her towards their new bedroom. “I’ll make you scream your apologies.”

Combeferre laughed as the bedroom door slammed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want any more Rule 63 Courferre.


End file.
